


I've Got You Under My Skin

by ryansravens (kingthranduiil)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Snowball Fight, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 05:57:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2457356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingthranduiil/pseuds/ryansravens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you just going to keep answering me with more questions?” Steve interjects, his voice pitched with mock-irritation. Bucky is leaning towards Steve now, close enough that Steve can both see and feel Bucky’s warm breath billowing out from between his smiling lips. Steve watches, swallowing as Bucky’s eyes flicker down to his mouth, lingering only for a moment before moving back up to lock eyes with Steve, and hears the almost inaudible intake of breath as he forms his retort.</p><p>“I dunno, are you gonna kiss me?”</p><p>Steve and Bucky engage in a snowball fight. There's dirty fighting, bantering, and questions are asked and answered. Quite literally just chin-handsing fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got You Under My Skin

It's a cold December morning in Brooklyn, and Bucky and Steve are sitting at the small table they have set up in the kitchen, eating breakfast. The light of the rising sun filters through the thin white curtains, casting an almost ethereal glow over the room. They're almost finished eating when Bucky abruptly looks up at Steve and asks "Can we have a snowball fight?"

Steve looks at Bucky over his toast, surprised, before taking another bite and replying "Sure, Buck." He finishes chewing before continuing. "Any particular reason you wanna have a snowball fight, or…?"

Bucky looks down at his own empty plate, using his fork to pick at the few scraps left over from his meal. "I just... we had snowball fights, right? Back then. They were fun." He looks back up at Steve then, eyes flashing with a new and imperceptible emotion Steve hasn't quite gotten the hang of reading just yet. This was the first winter since Bucky got back that he'd been, well, _himself_ enough to do anything besides just eat and sleep, and denying Bucky anything had never been one of Steve's strong suits to begin with. Especially something as harmless as a snowball fight...

He pushes the last of his toast into his mouth before standing up and holding his hand out to Bucky. "Shall we?" Bucky rolls his eyes, but he still reaches out for Steve's hand, and Steve pulls him up out of the chair easily.  They head towards the front door, shoulders brushing, to where their coats hang and their boots are cluttered haphazardly at the door, and they pull the gear on before heading out into the crisp air. The snow isn't falling now, but it looks as though it had the previous night--most of the snow is still fresh and untouched on the ground.

They cross the street together, stopping in the small park across from their apartment building before crouching a few yards apart and beginning to make snowballs. They each start on their ammunition, crushing the soft powder into compact spheres and depositing them into their own respective piles.

They don't speak while they work, only the hushed sounds of an early Sunday morning in the city intruding on the otherwise pleasant silence. With both of them being early risers, no one else seems to be in the park; the sun has only made it above the horizon in the last half hour or so, and the winter sky is cloudy and pale.

Their eyes meet every few moments, looking up from their snowballing, and Bucky waits for a moment until Steve isn't looking before discreetly picking up an already-finished snowball and tossing it deftly in Steve's direction. The icy ball sails through the air before landing smack in the middle of Steve's chest. Bucky somehow manages to hold back a snicker at the frankly scandalized look on Steve's face, and gives him the most innocent look he can muster.

Steve just looks him square in the eye, a determined yet playful look on his face, one Bucky knew all too well. "So that's how it's gonna be, huh?"

Bucky watches as Steve slowly reaches for his own snowball reserve, picking up a few in his hand, before reaching for his own stockpile and responding with a tilt of his head, "S'pose so."

A mini battle erupts in the middle of the park, then; they're launching snowballs back and forth, not hard enough to cause any real destruction, just enough to sting a bit, their laughs echoing through the empty park. It doesn't last very long; neither of them had succeeded in making very many snowballs in the short time they'd been there. They're both dusted in snowflakes, faces flushed from the cold morning air, chests heaving and punch-drunk on laughter.

"So who won?" Steve asks as he watches Bucky stumble through the graveyard of fallen snowballs to stand in front of him. "I think I did, if we're being completely honest."

"You wish, pal," Bucky disputes, puffing out a laugh, the corners of his lips pulling up ever so slightly before leaning in the last little bit to enter Steve's personal space, not that he minds at all. Bucky's right hand brushes Steve's left, incredibly chilled from handling the snow, before his fingers wrap around Steve's equally cold digits, and Bucky's leaning even more into him and he's looking at Steve with the strangest look that' he can't quite--

“Are you… are you flirting with me?” Steve stutters out. Bucky just looks at Steve with a wry smirk, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in amusement. “Oh my god, you’re _actually_ flirting with me.”

“So what if I am?”

“It’s…” Steve flounders for the right words, _any_ words, but they’re slipping his mind at the moment, and even with the super-soldier enhancements his brain still seems to be shorting out. “You _like_ me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes accordingly. “You just figured that out, huh?” Bucky’s smirk only grows and yeah, he's well on his way to actually becoming the Cheshire cat at this point. “Which part were you confused about? Was it the hand-holding? All the fond looks? Makin’ you dinner? Sleeping in your bed with you? How 'bout the--"

“Are you just going to keep answering me with more questions?” Steve interjects, his voice pitched with mock-irritation. Bucky is leaning towards Steve now, close enough that Steve can both see and feel Bucky’s warm breath billowing out from between his smiling lips. Steve watches, swallowing as Bucky’s eyes flicker down to his mouth, lingering only for a moment before moving back up to lock eyes with Steve, and hears the almost inaudible intake of breath as he forms his retort.

“I dunno, are you gonna kiss me?”

Steve’s jaw drops open, which he quickly snaps shut again, slightly embarrassed; he can feel his face growing warm despite the chilly temperature. Quite compliant with the temperature, however, Steve can’t seem to move his limbs, frozen in place by some overwhelming combination of the wintry weather, mortification, and briefly panic before Bucky teasingly grabs Steve’s face with chilled hands, muttering “I gotta do _everything_  don’t I?” before kissing Steve’s cold lips. He only lingers a moment before he pulls back, and sniggers when he sees Steve still looking at him, blue eyes wide and clear, lips still pursed rather adorably.

Steve manages to regain at least a bit of his composure before snapping back, “That it?”

Bucky chuckles and drawls, “What, ya want more?”

“What kinda question is that?” Steve replies, leaning back into Bucky’s space, so close he can see how Bucky’s dark eyelashes fan out _just so_ as he looks up at Steve from underneath them.

Bucky breathes out another small laugh, mouth turning up into the most gorgeous smile Steve’s seen on him since he got back. “Who’s askin’ questions _now_?”

Steve huffs in pseudo-frustration before grabbing Bucky by the back of his neck and reeling him in for another kiss, this one longer, and much, much sweeter. They go slow the second time, teeth clashing in between barely-held-in smiles and biting at already-chapped lips, hands slotting into places they seem to naturally fit—nestled in the hollow just beneath an ear, in dark, cold-crisp hair, wrapped around the back of the other’s neck, around a lithe waist.

Of course, being who they are, this moment can’t last forever. Steve's bliss-addled brain doesn't even register the hand already underneath his jacket starting to inch towards the hem of his sweater--the way it whirs just a bit louder in the cold really should have alerted him sooner, he'll think later--and scarcely has time to steel himself before he feels a very metal, very _cold_ hand brush his bare stomach.

Only marginally prepared, Steve jolts at the sudden cold against his otherwise warm skin, managing by some stroke of luck to yelp only a little bit, thank you very much. He quickly attempts to pull away from the offending cold limb, and Bucky barks out an abrupt laugh before murmuring low and quick, “Sorry, _sorry_ , I’ll behave from now on, Stevie, I _promise_ ,” his giggle-punctuated words losing all semblance of seriousness. Not that Steve minds, not at all, because, really, how could he? Bucky's in front of him, warm and laughing and safe and _alive_ , so so alive, and it's all better than anything he could have ever imagined.

Still smiling, Bucky pulls an endearingly faux-pouting Steve back into him, arm automatically re-settling around Steve, the still-cold metal heating back up against his sweater-clad side. Bucky looks back up at Steve, and Steve’s all mischievous eyes, corners of his cold-and-kiss-chapped lips turning up into something Bucky has _definitely_ seen before, and _oh no—_

Steve kicks his leg in between Bucky’s before swinging it to the side, tripping Bucky where he stands. Bucky, never one to back down, catches hold of Steve’s waist as he loses his balance—admittedly, he doesn’t really try all that hard to stay upright in the first place—pulling Steve down with him. They land in the snow with a rather impressive thud, all tangled limbs and smug smiles.

Bucky’s hair has long since been pulled loose from the messy bun he’d had it in earlier, and it’s fanned out around his head in a sort of halo now, the slightly tangled strands dark against the stark white of the snow. Steve thinks, rather dazedly, that he’s never seen something so beautiful in his life, and his artist's fingers itch for his sketchbook and some charcoal.

The snow beneath them is melting rather quickly from the combined heat of their bodies, and the chill of it is beginning to seep through Bucky's now-damp coat. Normally, the cold brought with it dark thoughts of an even darker room and the feeling of being trapped, _suffocated_ , as icy blasts forced him into sleep once more. But here, in this time, with Steve's reassuring and familiar warmth pressing flush against him, the sunbeams of Steve's smile permeating his very bones, well, the shadowy thoughts keep their distance for now.

“Just can’t keep off ’a me, huh, doll?” Bucky grins, voice still a bit breathy from their fall. It’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes exaggeratedly, snapping out of his own reverie before leaning down to peck Bucky’s still-smiling lips, the rather awkward angle they were at causing their noses to bump softly.

“’Course not,” he smiles fondly, voice sincere and low as he leans in close to Bucky’s ear, both of their eyes fluttering shut, Bucky's fingers curling against Steve's back. Even with his eyes closed, Bucky can feel the stunning, _devious_ smile on Steve's lips as he whispers, “You’ve always been my best guy, after all.”

Bucky tries to suppress a shiver that rolls through his entire body, whether it was caused by the cold or his words Steve may never know. Eyes still closed, Bucky states, “We really should go back inside soon, weather’s gettin’ bad,” and it’s then that Steve finally looks up, realizing there’s fresh snow beginning to fall from the darkening sky.

“Guess so,” Steve replies absently, before looking back down at Bucky, whose eyes are now fixed on Steve, a not-quite-readable expression on his face. “See somethin’ ya like?” Steve quips, and how a grown man is able to look so _impish_ Bucky will never understand.

“Yeah,” Bucky finally answers, mouth forming the smallest and sweetest of smiles, eyes bright and warm. “Yeah, I do.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write some winter fluff for these two, since it's been getting a bit cooler out. Thanks a bunch to [Mia](http://captainstarbucky.tumblr.com), my stucky-headcanon partner in crime. The title is from the song of the same name written by Cole Porter, though my favorite version is the one sung by Ella Fitzgerald.


End file.
